Wholesome Perversions
by Liam2
Summary: Don't read if you think a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Otherwise, enjoy.


And now for something completely different. For those of you who've been thinking "Wow, I'd like to read a 'Chuck' fanfic that will really warp my mind and forever alter how I think of these characters." Say no more, because Daddy Liam takes care of his audience. Please, read and enjoy.

Oh, and give me feedback.

* * *

The night had finally arrived. D-Night. The night Chuck had so frequently dreamed of and subsequently woken up with sticky underwear.

Tonight he was gonna make sweet love to Sarah Walker.

Of course, like the Normandy invasion, Chuck had no idea the onslaught was coming until it actually arrived. He was lying on his bed, minding his own business, in the midst of watching his usual Friday night television – Doctor Who, Stargate Atlantis, Battlestar Galactica.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Sarah entered a moment later, wearing a trench coat that covered nearly every inch of her body. Although Chuck did notice that she had curled her hair, applied his favorite perfume, and was prancing about in knee-high latex stiletto boots.

"Uh, hi," he stammered.

"Hi," she answered coyly. She then proceeded to stand at the foot of his bed, blocking his view of the television. Not that he minded. He had DVR.

"Hope you don't mind my dropping by," she said. "I was just soooo bored sitting at home."

"Of course not. The door's always open for you." Towards the end of that sentence, Chuck managed to knock his voice down a few octaves, back to normal levels. "You wanna play cards or something?"

"Oh?" Sarah said, interested. "You mean like strip poker?"

In an easy motion, Sarah untied her trench coat and shrugged the garment to the floor. For a moment, Chuck's body seized up. His heart skipped a beat (or five). Because there stood Sarah Walker, wearing the same latex outfit Angelina Jolie wore in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith". The one she wore right before she whacked a bunch a bad guys and jumped out a hotel window.

"We could do that," she continued. "Or we could do other things."

Suavely, Chuck answered with, "Eep."

Sarah walked to Chuck's dresser. Opened a drawer, pulled out two of his ties. Turned to Chuck with a sly smirk. "You know, there's nothing I like more than a captive audience."

In a haze, Chuck watched as Sarah sauntered around the bed, captured his right wrist and pressed it against the headboard. With a seemingly practiced ease, she quickly secured his wrist. Walking around the bed, she proceeded to give his left wrist the same treatment. Of course, as she bent over to tie his wrist down, she offered an unobstructed view of her bountiful cleavage.

Finished, Sarah stood, thrusting out that bountiful cleavage. Looked at her handiwork with satisfaction. "That should do it." She then proceeded to Chuck's stereo system and began searching through his iPod.

A strong, sexy beat began to pulsate from the speakers. Chuck watched, entranced as Sarah's hips began to sway hypnotically to the music.

Chuck had seen Sarah dance before. Their first date, in fact. This time was completely different. Back then she was taking out an NSA hit squad. But this dance… Chuck couldn't be sure if she even remembered he was in the room, so consumed was she by the music. This dance was completely for her benefit, a preparation for the events to come. Any enjoyment he drew was totally incidental – plentiful, but incidental.

"I like you Chuck," she breathed. "You're cute and funny and sweet." Chuck's smile grew ever wider. Especially when Sarah began to crawl across the bed, along the length of his body, until she was straddled across his hips. She reached out and stroked his cheek, ran fingers through his hair.

"There's something about you, Chuck," she continued. "An innocence that draws me to you like a moth to a flame. I confess, the thought of corrupting you really makes me wet."

Chuck gulped.

"Part of being a CIA Agent includes extensive seduction training. To be perfectly blunt, my sexual knowledge and repertoire would boggle your mind. I'd love the chance to impart some of that knowledge upon you. I bet, Chuck, being the smart guy you are, that you would make an excellent and eager student. Am I right?"

"Yes Sarah," Chuck stuttered.

"Oh, no no no," she cooed. "My name isn't Sarah tonight. Please, refer to me as Mistress."

"Yes… Mistress."

Sarah gave him her patented high wattage smile. "Good boy." She leaned in, lips only millimeters from his. In a husky whisper, "You, Chuck Bartowski, drive me wild."

Then, inexplicably, Sarah dismounted. Chuck's lips – and other parts of his anatomy – mourned the loss.

Sarah seemed completely oblivious to his plight. As she sauntered to the door she said, "In fact, Chuck, I posit the theory that the only thing better than one Bartowski is two Bartowskis." Opening the door, Sarah called out, "Come here, baby. Momma's got a big appetite tonight. Think I'm gonna need seconds."

Chuck was too horrified to scream. He couldn't even avert his eyes. Like a car wreck, his eyes were riveted to the sight before him.

In walked his sister. Eleanor Faye Bartowski. Dressed entirely in black. A short, mid-thigh length silk robe. A see-through teddy. Garters. Heels. Hair twisted atop her head in a carefully orchestrated messy bob.

"Mmmm mmmm," Sarah moaned with fervor. "Damn, you Bartowskis are a good looking people. Lose the robe, babe, and give me a twirl."

Without hesitation, Ellie obeyed the order. As Sarah let out a wolf whistle, Ellie's cheeks flushed red. She gave a squeal of delight when Sarah slapped her ass.

"Now that's an ass I can get behind," Sarah quipped. "Now come here and give me a kiss."

Ellie giggled and stepped towards Sarah. One hand clutched his sister's ass cheek, the other lifted Ellie's chin.

"You are a beauty. Now I wonder, do all Bartowski's taste the same, or do you have your own unique taste?"

As their lips slowly drew together, Chuck tried to scream. Only a strangled gurgle sounded. Just before their lips touched, an act that would permanently scar him for life, Chuck's salvation arrived.

"Hey ladies. What's happening?" Captain Awesome leaned against Chuck's doorframe. Dressed in his skintight bike shorts and tank top.

"Awesome!" Chuck managed to cry. "Thank God!"

Captain ignored him, eyes still focused on the ladies. "Is this a private party or can anyone join?"

Sarah smirked. "Go to the kitchen. Grab the whip cream and chocolate sauce. You're the dessert, baby."

Captain gave a thumbs up. "Awesome. Be right back." He went to retrieve the items.

A cry of disbelief escaped Chuck's lips. "No! Not awesome. This is the completely antithesis of awesome!" Turning to Sarah he whimpered, "Sarah? I'm freaking out."

Sarah laughed. "Don't worry, baby. We're about to get our freak _on_."

She pulled Ellie in for one helluva kiss.

* * *

Chuck woke from the nightmare with a girlish scream. Sweat pouring, he frantically searched the room. No sign of anything amiss.

"Oh, _Thank God_."

He collapsed back to bed for a few more fitful minutes of sleep before his alarm went off.

* * *

Chuck exited his bedroom, intent on a shower to scrub away the cold sweats and horrible dreams. But first he needed to wash the horrible taste from his mouth. Orange juice would do the trick. He was practically in the kitchen before he noticed Sarah and Ellie sipping coffee at the counter.

He stopped in his tracks. A "deer in the headlights" expression on his face. The girls looked at him curiously.

"Are you okay, Chuck?" Ellie asked.

Chuck could only answer with a strangled whimper. He turned tail and ran for the bathroom. The girls stared after him.

"Weird," Sarah finally said.

"I know," Ellie replied. A sudden horrible thought struck her. "Oh God, you don't think he knows about us, do you?"

"Ellie, when we're alone, how did I say you should address me?"

Ellie dropped her eyes, chastised. "Sorry, Mistress. Forgive me."

With supreme benevolence, "See that it doesn't happen again. Now come here. I want to see that sweet ass of yours."

END


End file.
